My grandmother has Alzheimer’s. She is very open about having this terrible disease, and I’m always amazed at her resilience. She hasn’t started to forget us, her family, yet…but I know one day that time will come.
We go through a round-about with our conversations on most days. Always making the circle, but never finding the outlet it seems. I never mind though…the repetitive nature of our talks…because I always walk away knowing that she was never made to feel as though she were riding in that round-about. I have found that to be the most important part of how I handle my conversations with Grandma...never making her feel as though she is wrong, off-task, or out of this world with her conversation. It’s not about me…and the time the conversations take, or the manner in which they unfold. It’s about her…and her walking away with a smile and happy heart.
I spent some wonderful time with her the other night. She told me that it’s a terrible thing to be losing her memory, but that sometimes it’s nice to have the slate wiped clean every night when she goes to bed and awakes the following morning. I couldn’t help but laugh at her light-hearted approach to dealing with things…even wishing I could wipe the slate clean sometimes. She explained to me that the hardest part about having Alzheimer’s is how everyone else treats her. She said, “I don’t think they know what to expect, or how to handle someone with a memory issue, so they just pull away. I don’t have a lot of people that come to visit me any longer.”
That statement shot through me like poisoned arrow. I could feel myself grow sad and disappointed…even angry, knowing so many people that she was once close to have never been to see her, and rarely call her these days.
Are we really that selfish that we allow our own fear and uncertainty to pit us against an uncontrollable disease like Alzheimer’s? We allow distance to grow, and time to elapse, because we make someone else’s problem about us…and not about them. We fail to support those that need it most, and we fail to show love to those that forget we love them, and we allow all of this to happen because silence makes us uncomfortable. Conversation without direction makes us uncomfortable. The loss of a name is too much to handle. And not one of us takes the time to stop and ask, “How is Lorraine feeling?”
I cannot imagine what it must be like to wake up every morning and not know what day it is, what month it is, what year it is, what time it is. To have a calendar does nothing, because you forget to mark off the days. To forget in the evening that a dear friend came to visit that morning…even when that visit was the highlight of the day. I take those things for granted because they are a habit of every day life. I cannot imagine ever allowing those hardships that Grandma faces to come in between my time with her.
Her memories of the distant past are as clear as my memory of the days of the week. I take comfort, and find solace, in listening to her recall her history. The times she played softball in Indiana at the age of 15, and riding in the back of her brother’s pick-up truck all the way home, “in the worst storm I have ever seen;” Listening to her recollection of my grandfather – Papa Holt, and her undying love for him…paying me the biggest compliment by telling me that my sense of humor mirrors his. Her memories are in tact, even if her day-to-day memory is flawed.
I look at this tiny woman and see someone I can only hope to be like. I have rarely heard a negative thing come out of her mouth about another human being…and if it did…it was likely a deserving statement. She has always been colorblind to those around her, and would be loving of anyone that approached her.
For a woman her age, 79, she has the most progressive way of thinking I have ever seen. I was out with my closest girlfriends one night, playing cards, and I called to check on her and see how she was doing. We made small talk for a few minutes when I told her, “I guess I better let you go. I’m at my girlfriend’s house playing cards, but will give you a call again tomorrow.” She responded, “Have a great time, and tell her I can’t wait to meet her someday.” I hung up the phone in hysterics, telling my dear friends about the conversation, but took such pride in my grandmother’s open heart and mind. What a testament to her character. If only so many others could take that page from her life and hold it close to their broken hearts. She will never forget what she never was – racist, judgmental, homophobic.
Her mind is broken…but her heart is full of love, her smile is genuine, and her attitude toward life is one we could all model. She can continue to ask me where we are, and she can continue to call me by my mom’s name…but I will continue to spend my time with her and hope that a little bit of her unmistakable character rubs off on me. I’m so lucky to have her in my life!
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